by Tessa Kelly
Felisha got there in an Uber five minutes later. “Holy cow, are you okay?” She gave me a suffocating hug. “Come on, the car is waiting.”
“Aren’t we going home?” I asked.
“No way! And, Will, you're coming with us.” She tugged him by the sleeve and hustled us both into the Uber.
The driver tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Where to now, lady?”
“Take us back to the bakery.” She grinned as I raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “Have patience. You’ll see.”
Chapter 16
There was a party in progress at the bakery when we got there. Kathy had closed up for the night, though a couple of regulars stayed and joined in the celebration. At the long table by the wall, Dad was talking loudly with his pub friends. Next to him, Marlowe had stretched out on the floor gnawing a biscuit.
“Dad, did you cut your tournament short?” I asked.
He got up and gave me a one-armed hug. “Made it over here as soon as I got Will’s text. Don’t know how to thank you, Sandie-sweets. You saved my bacon and my reputation. I feel like a new man!”
“You don’t need to thank me,” I said, hugging him back. “You’re my dad.”
Behind the counter, Valeria was making her famous Cobble Hill Croque Monsieur sandwiches for everyone. She grinned at me as if nothing out of the ordinary happened in the last five days. “Yo, gangsta! What up?”
Josh handed out frothy drinks on the house from the espresso bar. In the corner, Jeff sat by himself with his arms crossed over his chest, watching him darkly. As Kathy and Tyrone came out of the back room with platefuls of cheesecake brownies and a Linzer torte, he sprang to his feet, upsetting his chair.
“Sure, bring out the brownies and the torte,” he muttered, not looking directly at his wife, but somewhere past her shoulder. “What about the rest of the stuff? The cakes, and the peanut butter bars, and the fruit pies? Empty the whole fridge and give it all away, right? Who needs the money anyway?” With a grunt, he pushed past Kathy and into the back.
The rest of us looked at her in uncertainty. Kathy rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. Enjoy.”
Dad raised his cappuccino to get everyone’s attention. “Here’s to Sandie! She’s done a job worthy of Philip Marlowe.”
I rolled my eyes, but everyone else raised their own coffees and soft drinks with cheers and exclamations of “Hear, hear!” It made my cheeks grow hot.
Dad downed his cappuccino in a single gulp and set it down in front of Josh. “Barkeep! Hit me.”
“Yes, sir.” With a smirk, Josh filled the tin container with milk and turned on the steamer.
Dad gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “So? We’re all waiting.”
I blinked. “Waiting for what?”
“For the detective to lay her cards out on the table! We’re all dying to know how you figured out it was Lauren.”
“Yeah! Spill the beans, Sandie,” Felisha said. “We totally have to know how you cracked it.”
I grinned. I’d been hoping someone would ask me about that because I was dying to tell them. I poured myself a hot chocolate from the pitcher Josh had set out and leaned on the counter while the others arranged themselves to face me.
“Actually, I suspected Lauren from the start,” I said. “It seemed too convenient that she was the only person who left the party early and had a strong alibi. But it was just a suspicion. I couldn’t prove any of it. I might’ve doubted Lauren’s alibi if it had been someone other than Valeria with her that night. But I could see no reason why Valeria would lie for Lauren. When she told us Lauren never left the apartment, I believed she was telling the truth.”
“Hey, I was!” Valeria said as she plopped onto a chair at the other end of the table and slid the plate of sandwiches toward the center. She put her heavy elbows on the tabletop and propped her chin with her hands. “I never seen her leave the house. She tricked me.”
“She tricked all of us,” I said. “But I know she was your friend. I’m sorry.”
Valeria shrugged a shoulder, but her expression turned gloomy. “She’s no friend to me no more! I’m never talking to her again.”
Kathy took her hand and squeezed it. “You know you still have us, right?”
“But none of you have a house so close to work where she can crash whenever she wants to,” Josh said with a sardonic smile.
“Josh!” Kathy gave him a disapproving look, but Valeria shrugged again. “Nah, it's true. Now I have to take the train home every night.”
“Anyway,” Will said with emphasis. “We all fell for Lauren’s alibi, but Sandie still had her doubts. Right, sis?”
I nodded. “Then Crystal came forward out of the blue with evidence about Angela’s money problems, and my suspicions deepened. It seemed more than probable that Crystal had been paid to say that and yesterday, when I saw her shopping for a designer handbag, it only confirmed what I’d been thinking.”
“And then Dad said something about dreams and secret doorways,” Will added.
“I did?” Dad quirked an eyebrow. “What did I say? I can’t remember.”
I grinned. “It’s fine. Just know it was good stuff, Dad.”
He raised his paper cup to me again. “Glad I helped, then.”
“So, I put that together with what Alex Sorrento said about never being able to keep anything from Sonny. It made me wonder if Sonny didn’t have some secret entrance into Luce della Vita no one knew about, and that maybe Lauren had found out about it and used it to murder him. After that, all I needed to do was get into Sonny's house and poke around a bit.”
“Sure. A small matter of breaking and entering.” Will narrowed his eyes at me in mock disapproval. “It’s a good thing you’re a civilian, Sandie. If I did that, I’d be suspended from work. Or worse.”
“Yeah, well. That’s why I didn’t tell you about my plan,” I said. “I didn’t want to get you into trouble. When I saw the stairway in the wall, I knew I had my proof. But I wanted to go one step further. I wanted a confession. So I left my scarf behind to let Lauren know I’d been there and discovered her secret. I knew she’d come for me. She’d have no other choice. I called Will and told him everything. The detectives had me wear a wire, while they hid in the back of Dad’s shop and waited for Lauren to show up.”
“You weren’t scared?” Felisha asked, her eyes wide.
“I was,” I admitted. “But I had no other choice. I had to protect Dad and save Angela from going to jail.”
Tyrone grinned. “You should be a cop, girl.” He gave my arm a playful pinch, while Felisha scowled at him.
I shook my head. “Thanks, but no thanks. That was enough excitement for me. Let someone else do the police stuff now. I’m done with that.”
“Too bad,” Will said, kneeling on the floor to play with Marlowe. “The police are losing an asset.”
Kathy leaned in and gave me a warm hug. “Leave her alone. Our Sandie is destined for other things.”
I sighed. “Just wish I knew what they are.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Dad said. “Mark my words, whatever you decide to do, you’ll be great at it.”
As the others got busy with the food, I went behind the counter to get a refill of hot chocolate.
“There’s no more,” Josh said getting up after me. “I can make you some if you like.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got the hang of this thing.” I reached past him for the milk jug, conscious of our hands brushing against each other. I wondered if he'd noticed it too.
Josh leaned against the counter and fixed his eyes on me for a long moment during which my heart began to pound. “So I heard you and Liam are going out together,” he said.
How had he found out? More importantly, was it simple curiosity that made him ask?
“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “Maybe. He invited me to hang out sometime. But I’ve been too busy with helping Dad to really think about it.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and glanced up at Josh. He
was still looking at me, but his expression was frustratingly unreadable.
“Don’t you think I should go out with him?” I prodded.
He seemed to hesitate, and my breath suddenly hitched. Was he about to tell me dating Liam would be a mistake? That instead I should go out with him?
His left eyebrow gave a weird twitch and he shrugged. “Why would I think you shouldn't go out with him? Liam is a cool guy. If you like him, you should go for it.”
Turning away from me, he got busy wrapping up the sandwich ingredients Valeria left on the counter. It looked like the conversation was over.
I stifled my disappointment and reminded myself Josh and I were a bad idea. He just wasn’t my type. Or, rather, he was exactly my type. Artistic, handsome, aloof. The type I'd gone for in the past, with disastrous results.
Besides, the whole point was moot, since Josh made it blatantly obvious he wasn't interested.
The front door opened and Liam came in carrying two bottles of wine. “From Angela and David,” he said. "She's been released on account of Lauren's arrest."
Tyrone took the wine bottles from him. “That’s what I’m talking about! Now it’s a party.”
Kathy put her hands on her hips. “Is that her apology for shunning us and saying Dad was a murderer?”
“Probably the only one you're gonna get from her,” Will said with a chuckle. “Just accept it and forget about it.”
"Oh, that's not all," Liam said. "She also asked to give you guys this.” He handed Kathy an envelope. Inside it was a check, the payment Angela owed us for our catering services.
Felisha and I grinned at each other as a knot of worry in my chest dissolved in relief. I had my rent money.
Valeria got out a fresh stack of paper cups, and Liam started pouring out the wine and handing it out. As he gave me my cup, his fingers lingered on mine. The left side of his mouth lifted in a smile. “So now that things are all squared off with the murder, how about that date?”
I opened my mouth, painfully aware that the conversations had suddenly gone quiet around us. They were all waiting to hear what I would say, but it didn’t seem to bother Liam at all.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, stalling.
He shrugged. “I could take you to dinner and drinks. Maybe catch a movie after? What do you think?”
Behind the counter, Josh took a swig of his wine. Our eyes met for a second, but he looked away. His face, like a stone mask, registered zero reaction.
I looked back at Liam. His light-blue gaze held a promise. What exactly it was promising I wasn’t sure, but there suddenly seemed no reason why I shouldn’t find out. I smiled at him. “Why not?”
“Great!” He gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll give you a call and we'll go somewhere.”
The others went back to talking and laughing. Will and Dad continued to joke, asking me if I was now the neighborhood’s newest amateur detective.
I shook my head. “The only reason I got involved in the first place was that Dad needed help. I’m not about to open a detective agency if that's what you're hinting at.”
“What if there was a case for you?”
I turned to face Mrs. O'Hara, standing there with a slice of carrot cake on a paper plate.
“A case for me? What do you mean?”
“You see, dear.” She looked shy, almost embarrassed as she spoke. “I volunteer part-time at the local homeless shelter. There’s an old man, he’s been living there for the past six months, poor thing. He was found robbed and beaten by the side of the road. Now he’s got amnesia, doesn’t remember who he is and where he’s from. I thought, you seem to have such a talent for figuring things out. Maybe you could go and talk to him? It would be so good if we could find out his real name and if he has any relatives.”
“One solved case doesn’t make me a detective,” I protested. But curiosity was already itching in my brain. A man with no past. Who was he? Where was he from? What if there was a true mystery behind this?
As though reading my mind, Mrs. O'Hara gave me a knowing smile. “Please, Sandie. What could it hurt?”
How do you say ‘no’ to helping an old man find his family?
“Okay,” I said. "Tomorrow. I’ll go see him.”
Two hours later, Felisha and I opened our apartment door. Asimov came running forward, meowing for attention. Felisha picked him up and scratched him behind the ears, making him purr. I kicked off my shoes and went into the sitting room where Hemingway lay stretched out on the sofa. As I plonked down next to him, he narrowed his eyes and flicked his tail at me.
“Now that Sonny’s killer is caught, everything will go back to normal,” I called out into the hallway. “Dad will probably want the cats back. How do you feel about that?”
Felisha came in, cradling Asimov in her arms. She sighed. “I mean, I’m happy it’s all over. But I’m really going to miss this guy.”
Then she sneezed so loud, Asimov tumbled from her hands and darted with a hiss into my bedroom.
I couldn’t help laughing. “Something tells me Asimov’s not going to miss you as much as you’re going to miss him.”
Her phone pinged with a message. Felisha read it and looked up with a guilty expression.
“Is it Tyrone?” I guessed.
“He’s going to a dance club in the city... but I can stay if you need me,” she added quickly. “Or you could come with us. His friends are really hot!” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“As hot as Tyrone?” I laughed as her eyes narrowed with suspicion and shook my head. “You go. I’m looking forward to a quiet night at home.”
“Okay. If you really don't mind...I just need to change and... Oh, where's that turquoise necklace I made last month? I want him to see it on me!” She fluttered around the apartment, talking a mile a minute. I sank back against the couch cushions with a smile on my lips.
My family was safe and our lives would be getting back to normal now. The knowledge of it brought clarity to my mind, and the decision I'd been dreading over these past two days suddenly became obvious. It was a no-brainer, really.
Fifteen minutes later, the front door closed behind Felisha. I got out my phone and dialed Money Tycoon. Everyone there had gone for the day, so I spoke to the answering machine. “This is Sandra James. I’m calling to thank you for the job offer you made me, and... to tell you I won’t be accepting it.”
I hung up and took a deep breath. It came easier than it had in days. As if a heavy weight had been lifted off my chest.
I’d been too hasty to gripe about working with Kathy. She needed me. My friends and family needed me. And maybe, at least for now, building closer relationships with them mattered more than having a career and financial freedom.
Besides, working at the bakery gave me the freedom of a different kind. The freedom of time to pursue interests I’d been neglecting for years. And one among them in particular.
I walked into my room and fired up my laptop. As a Word document loaded on the screen, I typed the first words at the top of the blank page:
First Edition Murder
A Sandie James Mystery.
I sat back and stared at the title. Was this the soul-singer Dad had spoken of? One of those dreams that led to the light instead of a dead-end? I didn’t know yet. But as I kept typing, an unbidden smile tugged at my lips. If dreams were like secret passages, surely, this one was taking me home.
THE DEADLY ART
A Sandie James Mystery
Book 2
Chapter 1
It’s no secret that breaking into the world of fine art can be murder. So when a friend unexpectedly becomes a success where so many have failed, you want to show up and cheer.
My heel tapped a nervous rhythm as the cab rattled down the narrow cobblestone street through the warm autumn evening. It was two months after the murder of Sonny Klein. The murder in which my dad had been the prime suspect. My roommate Felisha and I were on our way to the opening night of our friend’s first-ever
art exhibit.
Outside the window, converted warehouses rose on both sides. Built in the nineteenth century, the dark redbrick buildings were once used to store coffee beans. These days, they became home to high-end restaurants, boutiques, and art galleries of Dumbo, Brooklyn’s trendiest art neighborhood.
An elegant evening out would be a nice change of pace. Since solving the murder and rediscovering my long-forgotten passion for writing, I spent all my free time slaving away at the keyboard. But, thrilled as I was that my friend was having an art show at one of New York’s most prestigious galleries, I couldn’t help being anxious, too. As the cab pulled up in front of the glass doors of the AGER, the Art Gallery on the East River, my stomach flipped.
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
Felisha sighed. “Don’t start with this again.” She took out a compact mirror and dabbed on some lip gloss, then ran her fingers through her bangs. “What’s wrong with us coming? Josh invited us!”
He did. Josh asked us to come six weeks ago when he learned he’d been chosen for a showing, but then suddenly, and inexplicably, he rescinded his invitation. Disappointed, I hung up my best dressy outfit back into the closet, but Felisha wouldn’t hear of it.
She shrugged. “He didn’t mean for us not to come. It’s just jitters. You know, like stage fright. This is a huge night for him and we’re his friends. I’m sure he wants us there for support. He’ll be glad when he sees us.”
She was the first one out of the cab, giggling as her heels wobbled on the uneven stones.
Lights from the gallery spilled out onto the sidewalk, illuminating the well-dressed crowd going in. The opening night attracted a lot of people. Surprising, since Josh, while certainly brilliant, was a virtual unknown.
I unlocked the car door and my hand closed around the marble pendant hanging from my neck. For luck. Behind me, through the gap between two former warehouse buildings, I caught a glimpse of Brooklyn Bridge Park with its historic Jane’s Carousel standing dormant. Rising above them, the arch of the Brooklyn Bridge stretched over the East River, closing the divide between Dumbo’s homey scruffiness and the immaculate, glistening Manhattan skyline. The view filled me with a quiet sense of belonging. Though I hadn’t been back here long, this place was home.
